


Fractured Fairy Tale

by devilinthedetails



Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Arranged Marriages, Courtly Love, Cultural Differences, F/M, Gen, Happily Ever After, Midwinter, Party, Politics, Romance, courting, fairy tale, interracial couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 04:31:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13159326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilinthedetails/pseuds/devilinthedetails
Summary: Roald would trade any Midwinter gift not to have to attend another holiday party where he would struggle to make polite conversation with his future wife about anything more substantial than the weather. Set before the party in Squire where Kel breaks the ice between Roald and Shinko.





	Fractured Fairy Tale

Fractured Fairy Tale

The shouts and laughter of the boys in the courtyard below hurling snowballs at one another in a war that were merely a childhood game rattled the window panes like a winter wind. Staring down at the chaos of whirling betrayals and shifting alliances of the snowball fight below from the lofty vantage point of the sofa in Lord Imrah’s parlor at the palace, Roald wished that he could see Midwinter through the eyes of those boys in the courtyard. 

He would’ve traded any Midwinter gift he received this year for the chance to be a child again—to not have to attend another holiday party that would only exhaust him where he would struggle to make polite conversation with his future wife about anything more substantial than the weather. 

When he was little, everything about Midwinter from the parties to the presents was exciting; now, the mere thought of the celebrations he was expected to attend wearied him to the bone. All the costumes and conversations were so fake they tired him to the breaking point where he caved in and joined the artifice, forcing a smile that lied about how happy he was when he would’ve preferred to be almost anywhere else. 

He didn’t realize that he was scowling until Lord Imrah arched an eyebrow at him. “Aren’t you the embodiment of Midwinter cheer, squire?” 

“There’s a party tonight, my lord.” Roald dropped his eyes to the carpet where a knight in shining armor rescued a damsel in distress from the tower trapping her. He was unsure whether he was being invited to confide in his knightmaster or being reprimanded for appearing sullen. All he knew was that he wished someone would save him from the awkwardness that awaited in the evening, but nobody ever rescued a prince from a party. A prince had to do his duty and with less pouting than Roald was presently indulging in…

“Yes, and you needn’t look so glum.” Lord Imrah’s other eyebrow lifted to join the first. “You aren’t required to serve, just make conversation.” 

“I’d rather serve than make conversation, sir,” muttered Roald. Serving drinks and desserts was a mindless task, much less draining than sitting with Princess Shinkokami and wondering if their whole marriage would be years fading into infinity of scripted compliments about attire, pleasant comments about trivialities, and thoughtful questions about irrelevant issues, words that never scratched beyond the surface for fear of causing offense. 

Talking to Princess Shinkokami shouldn’t have been a challenge—she was so respectful as to almost be deferential and she was poised, adhering to every social grace with what appeared utmost ease—but it was because she seemed to expect him to lead their conversations. That left him feeling lost once the ritualized pleasantries were done. He hadn’t voiced these terrible thoughts to anyone since he knew he would sound like a royal brat if he complained about marrying a beautiful, graceful princess with impeccable manners from an exotic land. 

Marrying Princess Shinkokami sounded like something out of a fairy tale but the reality was a fractured fairy tale. One where the prince met the perfect princess (since that was Shinkokami, who often looked more like a porcelain doll than a breathing person) but instead of falling in love with her at first sight and living happily ever after with her, he found himself drowning whenever he tried to steer a discussion into deeper waters. 

As if he could read Roald’s mind, Lord Imrah remarked, “It’s important that you make conversation with your betrothed, Roald.” 

“It’s hard to make conversation with Princess Shinkokami.” Roald massaged his temples, blaming the sweat forming on his forehead on the roaring fire in the hearth and not on any sense of guilt he felt for speaking in a less than flattering fashion about his engaged. After all, he told himself, he wasn’t betraying his wife-to-be by griping about her behind her back; he was just seeking advice from his knightmaster, whose arranged marriage had grown into genuine love. “She’s so soft-spoken, sir.” 

“Of course she is, lad,” replied Lord Imrah patiently. “Most women in an arranged marriage are shy when they meet the man who is to be their husband but is also only a stranger. Arranged marriages are hard for men, but even more difficult for women. Remember it is the women who will be leaving her home and her family—everyone and everything she loves—to make a new home and family with her husband. My lady was very quiet for the first months of our engagement.” 

“I can’t imagine Lady Marielle being quiet, my lord.” Stunned at the incongruous idea of the vivacious Lady Marielle ever being bashful, Roald shook his head. 

“She was quiet when we first met.” Lord Imrah reclined into the couch cushions, reminiscing with a soft smile as his memory carried him back to another place and time. “I still remember the first time that she laughed at a joke after I finally found the courage to share one with her. It was the most beautiful laugh I ever heard because before that I hadn’t known—just hoped—that she had a sense of humor. I suppose before that moment she also didn’t know and just had to hope that I could make a joke.” 

“Princess Shinkokami doesn’t seem the type to be impressed by jokes, sir.” Roald couldn’t envision his betrothed losing control of her emotions enough to laugh, and he wasn’t confident that she would recognize a joke even if it pranced before her like a juggler. Not that Roald believed that his flashes of dry humor were the sort of jokes that provoked anything more than grins. He wasn’t a wild jokester who provoked gales of laughter like Cleon of Kennan, the clown of his year. “She’d be appalled if I started making wisecracks in the middle of a party.” 

“She’s from the Yamani Islands where being reserved is a virtue.” Lord Imrah nodded. “She probably expects you to conduct conversation seriously, yes, squire.” 

“It’s more than that, though. It’s as if she expects me to lead the conversation.” Roald bit his lip, noting inwardly that Princess Shinkokami seemed to expect him to lead in everything. Going into his betrothal, he had assumed that he and Princess Shinkokami would be equals and moreover that she would want to be treated as his equal, but now he was confronted with the disconcerting possibility that she might prefer to follow him all the time. The thought of her constantly expecting him to be in charge made his shoulders slump. He wasn’t cut out to be an authority figure for his future wife and didn’t particularly wish to be. He wanted her to be his partner, not his obedient servant. 

“Then try to do that for now.” Lord Imrah clapped Roald’s shoulder. “Open up to her instead of clamming up, and you might find that she does the same. Talk to her about your interests so she can get a better sense of who you are beyond your title.” 

Roald’s fear was that he had more duties than interests, which made him a very boring person beyond his title and the responsibilities that went with trying to live up to it. “What if I bore her, my lord?” he asked, even as it occurred to him that he could ramble on about philosophy, channeling Nealan of Queenscove, and Princess Shinkokami would never register anything other than courteous attentiveness on her smooth features while internally praying with all the fervor manners forbade her to show for the world to end in an inferno. 

“You won’t.” Lord Imrah’s answer was entirely unsatisfactory to Roald even if it was accompanied by a reassuring pat on the back. “If that worries you so much, though, just encourage her to talk about what interests her. You’ll learn about her and maybe discover things you have in common.” 

“What if we don’t have anything in common?” The words flew from Roald’s mouth before he could stop them. “What if she bores me, sir?” 

“You shouldn’t allow yourself to be bored by your betrothed.” Lord Imrah stared sternly at Roald, who flushed with the realization that his concern had been more of a selfish child’s than a man’s. “Make yourself take an interest in things she feels passionate about. Caring about things that matter to your lady is a cornerstone of a happy marriage, Roald.

“She won’t tell me about things that matter to her, my lord.” Frustrated with himself, his knightmaster, and Princess Shinkokami, Roald felt as if they had circled back to his initial, insolvable problem. 

“Then you have to make more of an effort to draw her out of her shell, lad.” Lord Imrah was implacable when Roald wanted sympathy. 

“I am making an effort, sir.” Roald’s jaw clenched, but he told himself that he wasn’t being defiant, just setting the record straight, since it wasn’t fair for his knightmaster to imply that he had committed anything less than his full effort to any of his many duties. “I listen and respond politely to everything she says, and I devote all my energy whenever I’m with her to not saying or doing anything that might be offensive to her.” 

He felt a sudden surge of bitterness that his efforts were apparently were not only unnoticed and unappreciated by his betrothed but also were ignored by his knightmaster, and added with a wry edge, “Not that it would make a difference if I did offend her. Even if I said something completely disagreeable to her, she’d just nod respectfully and assure me that I’m right. She’d never dare to tell me I was wrong no matter what horrible thing came out of my mouth.” 

“Roald!” Lord Imrah’s tone was a knife in Roald’s chest. If Shinkokami was too shy to chide Roald, Imrah most definitely wasn’t. “You are Crown Prince, and it’s unchivalrous for you to put anyone, much less your future wife whom you should honor at all times, in a situation where they have to argue with an uncharitable statement you make or suffer the injustice because few will want to risk the wrath of the heir to the throne.” 

“I was just joking, my lord.” An ugly part of him hadn’t been—he was human enough to indulge in the occasional spiteful fantasy that he was never so cruel as to make reality—but he wasn’t about to admit that when he was in trouble. The less seriously Lord Imrah thought he meant his comment, the better. “Even as Crown Prince, I believe I’m still entitled to make jokes.” 

“You’re entitled to make jokes, and I’m within my rights not to find them amusing under the circumstances, squire.” Lord Imrah’s arms were folded across his chest, and his pale eyes reminded Roald of the granite of Legann castle. “As your knightmaster, I will certainly inform you when I judge your behavior to verge on the unchivalrous. I happen to think that making jokes at the expense of your betrothed who has recently arrived from a foreign country is insensitive and unworthy of a gentleman.” 

“I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, sir.” Roald ducked his head at the reprimand. When his knightmaster described his words, they sounded more malicious than he had intended—he had only spoken them as a momentary surrender to his passionate Conte blood, which had burned hot within him but then cooled once he had spilled out some of his resentment. He wondered if giving into such angry urges was how princes became tyrants and promised himself that in the new year he would keep an even tighter reign on his Conte temper. It took an iron will to contain the hot blood thudding in his veins. “I meant no harm by what I said, but I see now I wouldn’t appreciate Princess Shinkokami talking about me behind my back in such a way, so I should treat her with the same courtesy I would wish to receive from her.” 

“You have to start thinking about situations from her perspective, Roald.” Lord Imrah tapped Roald’s knee in a gesture Roald had come to understand over years as the man’s squire was half reproach and half reassurance. “Whenever you’re dealing with her, keep in mind that she’s an ocean away from the only place she’s ever known, expected to make a new home amongst a strange people with unfamiliar customs accompanied by a pair of ladies-in-waiting who are the only ones who speak her language and have her trust. She is likely lonely and in need of friendship more than romance at this trying time for her. She’s to be your wife, and you must be patient, kind, and understanding of her always but especially now.” 

“I’ll always be gentle with her and respectful of her, my lord,” Roald vowed, hoping that his knightmaster realized that he had never truly entertained the prospect of treating Princess Shinkokami otherwise. “It’s just difficult having her so quiet that it’s clear she’s afraid of me.” 

“If you treat her as you should, with time, she’ll lose her fear of you.” Lord Imrah squeezed Roald’s knee. “She may always be quiet, but you of all people shouldn’t underestimate her for that. She seems a smart, sweet young woman with a hidden strength. I believe she’ll make a good wife to you, and you’ll be happy married to her as long as you always put in the effort to understand where she is coming from. In marriage, if you want to be happy, you have to make the effort every day, Roald.” 

“I will try.” Roald felt both inspired by his knightmaster’s words—because they made him believe that a happy marriage was a matter of willpower and he knew that he could be stubborn as rot when he hardened his resolve—and intimidated since Lord Imrah implied that the battle for a happy marriage was one waged every day. Happily ever after would never happen, but even if his marriage ended up being a happy one. “Starting tonight at the party, sir.” 

“Good lad.” Lord Imrah rugged Roald’s hair. “If I spot you floundering, I’ll come over to rescue you.” 

“Thank you, my lord.” Roald was grateful enough for the vow of salvation that he shot Lord Imrah a mischievous glance. “Did I ever tell you you’re my hero?” 

“My life is complete.” Lord Imrah chuckled, and Roald gave a rare laugh, hoping that his knightmaster had heard the sincerity behind his own quip, since the man was one of his heroes. “That’s what I became a knight to hear, squire.”


End file.
